


Second Chances

by gamewriter47



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV), Multi-Fandom, QTWD, The 100 (TV), queer the walking dead
Genre: Alicia's POV, Crossover, Elyza has a lip ring, Eventual Smut, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, Here we go, Horrible pet names, Incessant Teasing, Love/Hate, No Angst, POV Second Person, Romance, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and an eyebrow piercing, hopping on board, lexark, sassiness, sexual tension everywhere, tongue too? who knows i'm open
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:55:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6224776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gamewriter47/pseuds/gamewriter47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I don't know where this is going, but some short snippets of Lexark in this new world they've found themselves in.</p><p>Open to requests/ideas/suggestions. Because this is ours and we can do whatever the fuck we want with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. They Meet

The world seems to be ending, but everything feels the same.

 

It’s never been easy, being the _not_ problematic child. A lifetime of putting others before yourself, of saying nothing in favor of what felt like the greater good. There was nothing _really_ wrong with you, so what right did you have to demand some recognition when Nick was so obviously hurting more than you, so much more in need of sympathy, love, and blind optimism.

 

But it was unfair. And you had no problem making sure that everyone knew that. Because why should you be punished for _not_ fucking up your life? For making smart decisions and trying to be something more than what was expected of you?

 

Of course, none of that mattered. Not anymore.

 

It’s how you convinced yourself to stray a bit away from the group, to try and wrench open that blockaded door, because this grocery store was still fully stocked and there must be _something_ worthwhile behind the door. You tighten the straps of your backpack on your shoulders and get to work.

 

But you might have overestimated your abilities, because when you do get the door open you are not prepared for the pair of…whatever these things are that are waiting on the other side. It’s still jarring and you still can’t bring yourself to kill them (or anything) and that reluctance costs you because if you’re honest you still aren’t ready for this world, the insistence of Madison and Travis to keep you shielded from this new awful reality becoming more understandable but no less aggravating. Because they don’t think you are ready for this, and your naivety is only proving them frustratingly correct.

 

This indignation encourages you to grab for the bat you see on the floor and you swing wildly. You clip an elbow of one of them but it doesn’t seem to phase these creatures that are becoming more common with each passing day. In fact it only seems to aggravate them and they turn their dead, hollow eyes toward you, shuffling forward with a relentless energy that is still unnerving because they look so _human_.

 

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to separate the two in your head.

 

These thoughts distract you, and the ear shattering sound of a shotgun makes you jump several feet backwards, tripping over something on the ground and landing hard on your tailbone. Their screams terrify you and you can’t help but yell, overwhelmed by what your life has become and how you incapable you feel about adjusting.

 

A flash of blonde hair seems to come from nowhere and you can barely comprehend anything over the sickening squelch of a blade slicing through what used to be living flesh. You pitch clumsily forward, your pitiful lunch threatening to make an unwelcome reappearance.

 

“You alright there, princess?”

 

You look up, eyes watery, but the sight of those…things, bloody and mutilated on the ground breaks your restraint and you are only just able to turn away before you vomit in the corner.

 

“Guess not,” the blonde mumbles. You are distracted for a second by her voice, raspy and with a lilt of an accent. But then she makes to move forward and you jerk suddenly upright, taking several hurried side steps in an attempt to distance yourself from your previous sickness.

 

You look at her properly for the first time, her expression a mixture of amusement and confusion. She’s wearing a leather jacket over a dirty white tank top, her ripped jeans tucked into blood-streaked black combat boots. Her eyes are strikingly blue, her yellow hair wild and a bit unkempt. There are black smudges around her eyes that reach back to her hairline, a studded piercing in her eyebrow and a ring through the left side of her lip. When you notice this last detail you can’t help but stare, and it isn’t long before her mouth curves up into a cocky smirk.

 

Your eyes snap back up immediately, cheeks burning at her throaty chuckle.

 

“See something you like?”

 

A new wave of embarrassment washes over you and with it you finally find your voice. You are a little irritated at this random girl’s ability to render you speechless and you don’t bother to hide the contempt in your voice.

 

“And who’re you supposed to be?”

 

The girl laughs again, hefting her shotgun up and over her shoulder. You are quickly beginning to hate the knowing way she looks at you.

 

“A little rude don’t you think? I did just save your life after all.”

 

You clench your jaw, your annoyance growing. “Thanks,” you say gruffly, “Are you going to answer my question?”

 

You hold her gaze as she considers you, a scowl set firmly on your face. You’re trying to be rude, so off put by this girl’s abrupt entrance into your life, but she only grins wider, eyes drifting not so discreetly past your shorts and down your bare legs.

 

“You’re lucky you have a pretty face,” she drawls, gaze returning lazily back to yours. “Your social skills leave something to be desired.”

 

“Whatever,” you scoff, and lean down to snatch the baseball bat back up. You make to leave and go back to your group but she steps in front of you, blocking the exit.

 

“Ah, ah, not so fast cutie. I’m going to need some repayment first,” she tilts her head up, that infuriating smirk still on her lips. “Let’s see what’s in that backpack of yours.”

 

You stop in your tracks, glaring down at her with as much dislike as you can muster. “So you saved me just to rob me?” you ask, venom in your voice. “Seems a bit counterproductive to me.”

 

“The living have to stick together. To a point,” she adds, taking the pack you begrudgingly offered forward. “Besides, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if I let a beautiful girl like you turn into one of those things.”

 

“Lucky me,” you grumble. When she pulls out your phone you have to restrain yourself from tearing it back out of her hands.

 

“Seems a little unnecessary now, doesn’t it?” she asks.

 

“It’s for music,” you answer stiffly. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

 

She shrugs, rummaging through the rest of your pack while you wait, tensely rooted to the spot. You are confused, intrigued, and infuriated by this girl all at once. When she hands back your pack, taking only a granola bar and leaving your small first aid kit and your phone completely untouched, your feelings only intensify.

 

“Well, thanks for brightening my day a little bit princess. You know where you’re headed?”

 

You can’t do anything more than stare, numbly grabbing your pack from her outstretched hand.

 

“I don’t…I mean, yes, I do…but—“

 

She laughs that raspy chuckle again. “You’re even cuter when you’re flustered,” she teases. “Are you with anyone?”

 

You think you know what she means but her ever-present smirk suggests otherwise. Instead you choose to ignore the innuendo that seems to lace everything this girl says and straighten your spine, burying yourself back under indifference.

 

“I am. They’re just outside.”

 

“I’ll walk you.”

 

“No thanks.”

 

“Oh no…now I’m hurt.”

 

She holds up the bar she took, eyebrows raised. “Is this about the granola bar? If it means that much to you, you can have it back.”

 

“You’re an asshole,” you growl.

 

“I won’t disagree,” she consents. She leans backwards, shoving the door open with a grunt. You squint in the sudden bright light, eyeing her warily as she gestures for you to leave first.

 

“That’s them,” you say, pointing at the group farther up the street. The sight of your family makes you a little bit queasy so you turn back, not quite understanding the small feeling of refuge you seem to find in this girl you just met.

 

You think she might understand because she holds out her hand, waiting for you to take it.

 

“Elyza Lex,” she says.

 

You reach for her hand, and don’t know why you flinch when your skin slides against hers.

 

“Elyza…Lex…” you repeat slowly, the name feeling strange in your mouth. “Sounds pretty fake.”

 

“So does dead people coming back to life,” she counters. “But here we are.”

 

You think she has a point.

 

“Alicia,” you say, and then, “Clark.”

 

Her eyebrows shoot up, and you don’t really understand what she says next.

 

“Clark, huh? Interesting.”

 

You are pretty sure it won’t be the last.

 

 

 

 


	2. they (sort of) fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based on Jayenator565's prompt: Alicia asks Elyza to teach her some self defense

She’s with you now, a part of this strange group you are trying to survive with, and you aren’t really sure how you feel about it.

 

You are angry, you do know that. Because you are angry about nearly everything these days. Because being angry is easier than thinking about the reality of your situation, about what your life has now become, how all of your hard work and planning had gotten you _so close_ to being free from that life and these people, so close and then…

 

The world was ending, and suddenly your life is nothing more than surviving.

 

“It’s not the smartest idea to fall asleep out in the open anymore, cupcake.”

 

You startle, eyes flying open to see the blonde looking down at you, that insufferable smirk on her face.

 

“I wasn’t sleeping,” you grumble, and push yourself up against the hard, gnarled wood of the dock beneath you.

 

The group had found an abandoned boathouse and decided to post up for the next few days. It was quiet and in the middle of nowhere, but it was also unbearably small and you could only spend so much time under the worried, overprotective eye of your mother. You had found this dock at the far end of the lake and it became your sanctuary, the horrors of the world seeming just a bit farther away under the open sky.

 

Well, it _was_ your sanctuary.

 

“What do you want?” you ask, keeping your gaze fixed to the water sloshing unevenly beneath you.

 

She sits down next to you, her leather jacket discarded somewhere, the generous amount of pale skin revealed by her tank top catching your eye. You can’t help but squirm at her proximity.

 

“Maybe I just missed seeing your pretty face,” she says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “It certainly can’t be your charming personality.”

 

You roll your eyes. “I don’t like being followed.”

 

“Yeah? How about being chased? Because I can pursue a girl like no other.”

 

“Ah, is that the reason for all the gross nicknames, then?”

 

She laughs, and your stomach does a little sort of flip. You ignore it immediately.

 

“The nicknames are because I think you’re attractive, and I want to make sure you know it.”

 

You glance over at her and she winks, and you quickly look away. Her bluntness makes you a bit flustered, and you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

 

“Whatever,” you mumble. You swallow down whatever this feeling is and wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold on to your icy exterior. “I’d like to be alone, if you don’t mind.”

 

You hear her sigh, but she doesn’t move from her spot beside you. Instead she leans closer, just enough so her bare arm brushes against yours. Once again you feel her touch jolt through you, and you still have no idea why. You grab the flannel you had balled up to use as a pillow and shrug it over your shoulders, not wanting it to accidently happen again.

 

“I get it you know, the whole anger thing.” Her voice is somber, lower than it ever has been before and it makes you look over at her again. She is already staring back at you and your heart does a surprised sort of jump when your eyes meet hers.

 

“You don’t know anything about me,” you try, but you think the slight shake in your voice might have given you away.

 

“Maybe,” she shrugs and you see that look on her face again, the one where you feel like she knows some big secret that you don’t.

 

“We can still be happy,” she continues, “Even though it seems like the world is going to shit, there are still ways that we can _live_.”

 

“Doesn’t seem like there’s much of a point anymore.”

 

“I’d say there’s never been a time where it’s been _more_ important.”

 

It’s different, the way she is speaking to you now. Solemn and intense, with none of the teasing and overt innuendo you’ve become accustomed to hearing from her raspy, accented voice. You think she might realize it too because you see a small twitch run through her body and she very abruptly looks away, chest rising and falling in slow breaths as she comes back to herself.

 

“Anyways,” she murmurs, and you swear you can see her persona switching back on. “Someone as gorgeous as you shouldn’t limit herself to a life of death and sadness. I haven’t seen it yet, but I know your smile could make my heart beat right on out of my chest if you wanted it to.”

 

You groan, standing up to distance yourself from the moment you think you might have almost had.

 

“Your lines could use some work.”

 

“Nah, they’ll wear you down eventually. Just wait. I have an excellent track record.”

 

You roll your eyes again. Sometimes this girl was too much.

 

“Goodbye, Elyza.”

 

“See you later baby cakes.” she grins, and you have to turn away to hide the small smile on your face.

 

*

 

It isn’t until a week later, when you have had it up to here with Travis and your mother hushing up every time you enter a room, with how they refuse to tell you where they are headed next or what they are hoping to find in this endless trek along the coast, that you decide to approach her.

 

You aren’t entirely sure why you feel like you can trust her. Maybe it’s the way that she talks to you, because underneath all those cheesy pick up lines and infuriating nicknames you feel important, equal, desired (no, that’s not right) when you are around her. Maybe it’s the way that you frequently catch her looking at you, a little sad but mostly protective and always…you want to say longing, but she still hardly knows you and you aren’t quite ready for everything that would entail. You think it should make you feel annoyed or rebellious, the usual emotions that spring up when your mother insists on shielding you from the realities of the world, but instead you feel foolishly safe because despite everything you have this girl- this mysterious, intense, inexplicably loyal girl- who looks at you like you’re the light that is leading her home and you can’t for the life of you figure out why.

 

Of course, you tell her none of this.

 

“Elyza…I need to ask you something.”

 

You found her sitting on the shore of the lake, her hands busy cleaning her shotgun but the way her eyes were glazed over telling you her mind was far away.

 

She blinks quickly several times at the sound of her name, and you wonder if she can tell how strange it makes you feel when you say it.

  
“Ask away, princess.”

 

“I’d like you to teach me how to defend myself against those things. I’d ask someone else,” you add hastily, “But they think I’m not ready. That I’m too…young or weak or whatever.”

 

She looks at you with slightly squinted eyes, like she’s trying to size you up. You feel yourself unconsciously stand up straighter.

 

“You want me to teach you how to shoot a gun?”

 

“Not exactly,” you answer, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “Guns, they um, sort of freak me out. I was thinking with a blade, or I still have that bat I found…”

 

She smiles at you and you expect her to tease you about the guns but instead she gets up and slides a long blade out from the sheath on her leg (you still don’t know how she manages to have so many concealed weapons on her person), flipping it once to hold out to you, handle first.

 

“Let’s start you out on this, and then we’ll work our way up.”

 

When you reach out to take the weapon you inadvertently make eye contact and you find that you don’t want to look away. Because there’s so much swirling in her blue ones that you don’t understand, and when your fingers brush against hers and that familiar shiver shakes up your chest you think for the first time that your meeting her might not have been just an accident.

 

She breathes out when you move your hand away and then seconds later she says, so softly you think you might have misheard,

 

“You are anything but weak.”

 

*

 

You are reluctant to spar her with your new weapon, afraid you might accidently cut her with your wild, uncoordinated swings, but she taunts you with her smug grin and flirty one-liners and you find yourself lunging at her in irritation. She ducks effortlessly out of the way and you barely stop yourself from stumbling forward.

 

“You’re too stiff sweetheart,” she sighs, “Think of it as a dance. You gotta stay light on your feet.”

 

“I don’t dance,” you huff, frustration at being bad at something making your limbs lock up even more. “Let me try again.”

 

“Hold on a second.”

 

You watch warily as she moves behind you, stepping so close that it’s a bit hard to breathe and when her hand brushes against the skin of your arm you don’t know why your body flinches forward like it’s been burned.

 

“Hey, it’s ok. Relax.”

 

You take a breath in and try to do as she says, but the next thing you feel is her fingers wrapping around either of your wrists and then they are slowly sliding up your arms and back down again. You think she’s trying to ease the tension you feel but her touch is only making your heart thud painfully in your chest, your skin prickling in the wake of her long, slender fingers.

 

“They can tell when you’re afraid,” she says quietly. Her breath tickles the shell of your ear and you find yourself unconsciously leaning back into her. “You can’t think of them as human. Whatever it is that they are, they’re not alive anymore. They want nothing but to hurt you, remember that.”

 

You nod, feeling dizzy when her hands trail down your sides and come to rest on your hips.

 

“Widen your stance,” she continues. Her foot nudges your legs apart and you suck in a shaky breath, hoping she doesn’t notice how unsteady you suddenly feel.

 

“Good. You don’t want to let them get you on your back. Much easier to get a bite in.”

 

“And if that does happen,” you start, trying desperately to focus on anything but this strange feeling that seems to be coursing through every one of your nerve endings, “What then?”

 

“Well, if you’re _that_ insistent on getting on your back, I think I could be persuaded to help you out a bit.”

 

“I’m serious, Elyza…”

 

“Alright, take all the fun out of it. I guess it couldn’t hurt.” She moves from behind you and sits down on the ground, lowering herself down until she is flat on her back. “Ok, straddle me then.”

 

“Er—what?” you stutter, eyes widening.

 

“Don’t get too flustered, princess,” she grins. “We’re going for worst case scenario here.”

 

“Right. Okay.”

 

You clear your throat, setting your blade carefully on the ground before you kneel down and swing one leg over her hips, hyper aware of how important it is to keep as much distance as possible between the center of your body and her soft, pliant curves (no, stop that) beneath you.

 

“Step one,” she starts, hands creeping up your legs and to your waist, “Pull your attacker towards you, it knocks them off balance.” Her hands move up and then grip you tightly, yanking you forwards so quickly that your arms shoot out on instinct, hands bracing themselves on the hard ground on either side of Elyza’s head.

 

“And since these fuckers are nothing if not persistent, you need to make sure you keep their mouths _away_ from you…”

 

She reaches across the small distance between the two of you and carefully places her fingers on either side of your jaw, tugging slightly to tilt your face away from hers. Her touch is warm and soft and gentle, and you are having a hard time fighting against your body’s urge to press down into her.

 

It is only because it’s been awhile, you tell yourself. Nothing more.

 

“Have I ever told you that your jawline drives me crazy?”

 

“I thought you were going to teach me how to defend myself, not hit on me,” you snark, desperately ignoring the blush you feel burning your cheeks.

 

“Can’t I do both?”

 

“I’d prefer you didn’t.”

 

“Alright, so just hit on you then?”

 

“For fucks sake—“

 

You are abruptly cut off as Elyza twists her hips and you suddenly find your positions reversed, back stinging lightly from hitting the hard ground.

 

“And final step- they lose and you win. Any questions?”

 

She shoots you that cocky grin and you shove her off of you with a groan.

 

“Ass.”

 

When you stand up and stalk back to the boathouse, Elyza’s loud laughs echoing behind you and the evidence of your interaction sticky and damning between your legs, you are suddenly glad that the only shower you can take is a cold one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm still pretty open with where this one goes, so if you have ideas/suggestions hit me up on here or, if you prefer to be anonymous, shoot me a message on tumblr at gamewriter47!
> 
> buckle in for a slow burn folks.  
> thanks everyone for bearing with me as I still try to find their voices and thank you, as always, for reading/reviewing! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Eh? Let me know if there's anything you want to see and I'll write some stuff about it here.  
> I'm on tumblr at gamewriter47! Isn't this ship fantastic? :D


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